Melancholy

You say if you could fly,
you'd never come back down.
You only have eyes for that blue,
melancholic sky.
You know if we can just make it through,
you'll find what you seek.
So keep trying to break free,
into that blue,
pale sky. 
For there are only tragedies,
and heartbreak,
sewn into this withering land,
awaiting their death to cry. 
So if there is one thing you ever do,
break away into that pale blue.
And into the horizon fly,
disappear into that melancholic sky.

Heart

My heart,
a hotel for the lost
a halfway house for the abandoned
a motel for the destitute
a caravan for the traveler

My heart,
has long since forgotten itself
shards of abandoned love pierce its flesh
forgotten tragedies play melancholic symphonies
an orchestra of the undesirables
my ribcage haunted
by cacophonies of sweet memories

My heart,
a wild creature
howling at the full moon
searching for its home
but for now it remains

a grand hotel
for
the lost

Ghost ship

My rib cage a ghost ship where once a soul resided. Haunting of past loves come like spirits in the dark crevices. Creaks on floorboards where once the footprints of others ladened the hallways. Paintings of forgotten memories hung askew on the walls, nailed in by love and hurt, and worn over time. Tattered sails adorning the mantle, as the wind plays a melancholic soliloquy sounding through the surface amplified by the unnerving ocean. Below deck there are holes seeping water, but afloat this ship stays. Its compass misplaced and its true north long since forgotten. It merely steers with the currents, and the winds of change. From time to time lanterns are lit, and a warm glow is emitted to even that of the decks. And such is the mirage of this ocean, where the foolish hearted reside. This ghost ship in search of its long lost treasure, this rib cage in search of its long lost soul.

Withering

billowing embers

These flowers were supposed to still the withering

While I withered,

they  were to blossom

Maybe I grew jealous

So I drowned them

regretted it

drained them

And drenched again

They withered, I wither

I used to call my withering, “my annual moment”

When my throat throbs with tears held back in public,

the inability to cry in private

When comfort is binging

and binging makes me wither

Withering is no longer annual,

it is inescapable reality

Where I drown and drain, drown and drain

with utter,

boundless futility

These flowers- like me- are tired.

No need for water.

Just withering…

…and death.

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Aurora

A crooked smile,
stretched across the horizon.
A crack of light,
fading,
a facade of warmth.
Rain clouds gathered,
within the windows of her soul.
Scars of heavenly abode,
hung across her face.
Mute,
by the world.
Storm clouds gather in her mind,
and thunder cracked billow from her lips.
Setting fire to the world,
and her tears to extinguish words.
Before it ever reached,
a deaf earth.
And with a crooked smile,
and a dim light,
stretched across the horizon,
she gave her heart away.
And all that remained,
fragmented memories,
of a beautiful sunset.

 

Lost

i was told i am lost boy,
that there’s a vacancy in my eyes,
where belonging and direction ought to rest.
That i search for myself in every person i meet,
and every word dripping from my honey sweetened lips were poison to my soul.
i was told that my conversations with mere mortals were actually conversations with the gods.
and that the divine spoke in languages only souls could understand.
But still i am a walking contradiction,
looking for love of the unknown,
yet fearing to never find an anchor for my soul.
i am a hopeless romantic,
running after the illusions of this world.
Run lost boy i was told,
away from all of reality that began to unfold.
And so i search for Neverland in every doe eyed lover i meet.
Only to find that our souls are the oceans of the unknown.
Beautiful and calm,
and sometimes a storm ladened vortex producing shipwrecks and broken hearts contained in the carcasses of our ribcages.
And years later those very remnants of rib cages, finds buried within itself treasure troves of love.
And so when love finds its way onto your shores,
do not bury it.
But rather take it out to sea,
and brave the storms.
Maybe it will be that shipwrecks and a broken compass have never been so beautiful.
and that the vacancy in my eyes was actually a mirage of the depths of my soul yearning to be explored.
And one day it will be just you, the ocean and this lost boy.